From the U.S. Marshal Files
In the early morning hours of April 22, 2000, nine other Deputy U.S. Marshals and I sped through the gates of Homestead Air Force Base, red and blue emergency lights flashing. An Air Force security officer stood ahead, rapidly circling his arm—like a third-base coach sending a runner home. He waved us through without stopping, and we continued toward the flight line.
We were there because of a six-year-old boy whose name nearly everyone in America knew: Elián González.
For months, Elián had been at the center of an international custody battle after surviving the boat journey from Cuba that killed his mother. His Miami relatives wanted him to remain in the United States, while his father wanted him returned to Cuba. My view was that extended relatives living in another country had neither moral nor legal standing over a surviving father. Earlier that morning, federal agents had entered the Miami home where Elián was staying and taken him into federal custody. The dramatic photograph of an armed federal agent confronting the man holding Elián would quickly become one of the defining images of the entire affair.
I wasn’t involved in that raid. My small part in the story began immediately afterward.
At the time, I was a Deputy U.S. Marshal temporarily assigned to Miami as part of a special federal fugitive enforcement initiative. Deputy Marshals had been brought in from districts around the country, and we were working with the DEA apprehending federal fugitives. Ten of us were pulled from that assignment that morning and sent racing to Homestead.
Using out-of-town deputies provided a layer of operational security. The Elián case was surrounded by extraordinary media attention, and bringing in deputies from outside the area reduced the likelihood that details of the operation would find their way to the press.
Once through the gate, we moved quickly to the flight line and established a circular security perimeter around a U.S. Marshals Service jet. Ten Deputy Marshals stood spaced around the aircraft, wearing tactical vests and raid jackets that flapped in the early-morning Florida breeze. It was still dark, and within minutes the helicopter carrying Elián arrived.
A female federal agent carried Elián from the helicopter into a nearby structure for a brief medical examination. Moments later, they emerged and moved toward the waiting jet. We maintained the perimeter as Elián was placed aboard and the aircraft prepared to depart. Then the U.S. Marshals Service jet carrying Elián González rolled away and took off.
The radio was alive with coverage of the raid. By then, it was well understood that Elián was being taken toward Washington, but the operation had unfolded so rapidly that some of the reporting was still behind events. I recall hearing speculation that Elián had probably not even left Florida yet.
The ten of us knew otherwise.
While reporters were still trying to determine how far the operation had progressed, Elián González was already airborne and well on his way toward Washington.
We knew because we had just watched him leave.
It was a small role in a historic event, but an unusual vantage point from which to witness it.
